Hey everyone! Sorry, I meant to put this out Thursday, but then shit happened, and on Friday I ended up waking up reeeeeeeeeaaalllly late :3. So, yeah, I am finishing this as my ride is about to get here in like... Five minutes? Not even, lmao. This is how much I love you guys!

PhantomFan01: Erik does understand her! They both have been through a lot, as you will see in this chapter!

TheIdesofMarch: Awesome possum? Ahahahahahaa that is a new favorite line for me! And do no deny the powers of cookies as a tool of forgiveness! :D

PanicAtTheExpress: Ugh, I GUESS I can be your friend... :P And yes, I started writing right after I read it! And yeah, I hope to bring the story back to a more... positive light haha. Things have been pretty depressing for my poor characters lately.

XxnikigirlxX: Here it is :D I hope you like it!

cHCkrdFlatZ: First of all, it was hell copying your name. Second, COOKIES! NOM NOM NOM.

amysmiles: FIND OUT! QUICK! Read! :P

ReadDeathLvr: She may... OR WILL SHE? DUN Dun dunnnnn...

Tell me your secrets, darling.

Share with me your soul, and I shall give you mine.

Hold me, trust me, feel me. Believe me.

I wish to know you, to understand you.

Please... Help me. I need you. I want you.

I miss you.

Let us go back to how we used to be; before the pain, the suffering... I want us to be happy again.

Do not turn from me, little one. Come to me; let me hide you from your fears, from your shame, from your anger.

Let me be your friend again.

Erik paced back and forth, his mind flying. How could he explain so many things to Abigail? She would never understand him. How could she? Abigail could not even see him, how could he expect her to understand what he had to tell her without an image to go along with it? But, Erik had to try. It was his only hope to ever get her to think of him the same way again.

He glanced over to the swan bed. Abigail had not moved for almost ten hours. She had to get up eventually, Erik decided. For now, he would plan his first move.

He couldn't be too abrupt. He had to ease his way into the conversation. If he came out to suddenly, Erik feared that Abigail would be horrified and try to flee. Perhaps she would leave anyway even after he told her, opened himself to her, exposed himself. Erik shuddered at the thought. He didn't want to believe that was a possibility.

Erik collapsed in a chair near the table. He frowned, glancing over the spilt cereal. Abigail was not a messy person. In fact, everything about her was perfectly planned and organized. Seeing her food sprayed about bothered him to no end. Erik quickly cleaned up the mess, trying not to think too hard on the manner.

A noise came from the swan bed. Erik whipped around and saw Abigail slowly rise from the sheets. After a crack from her back, Abigail got up, carefully selected some clothes from the wardrobe, walked over to the bathroom, and shut the door behind her. Erik flew to the door. He leaned against the wood, hands and ear pressed against its cool surface, listening intently.

Erik strained his ears as he heard Abigail moving about. He heard her turn on the shower before she brushed her teeth; after a moment of silence, he heard the shower curtain pull back, and then just water. Erik stepped back from the door, disappointed. He had expected something a bit more enlightening.

A bit of shame shot through him as he trudged over to his organ. He had stooped down to the level of practically stalking Abigail rather than just talking to her. It wasn't his fault, though. He hadn't got the opportunity to speak with her yet. Right? Of course. For now, he would work a bit. But on what?

Erik flipped through pages upon pages of music sheets. Eventually, he came to one labeled "Mon Ange Tombé". Erik smiled to himself as he laid it out in front of him, grabbed his pen, and began to continue the song.

It was only three and a half pages at the moment; Erik had no idea how long it would actually become. For now, he was content with simply continuing the tale he told through the song. Erik hummed to himself, occasionally pressing a few notes here or there to listen to the sound as he scribbled the notes down, occasionally scratching them and replacing them with others. He refrained from playing anything more than that, however, he did not want Abigail to hear it. The song would be his gift to her one of these days. Erik had planned on having them play it together after a few days, but now that he realized what the song had become, he was thankful Abigail had refused to do so at the time.

But first, Erik had to teach her the organ.

A minor setback.

The shower stopped. Erik froze mid-note, head perking up, waiting for a sign. The sink began to run.

What was he to do when she got out of the bathroom? What would he say? Erik began to panic. How do people deal with these situations? He had to admit, his social etiquette was quite rusty. After turning around, Erik glanced over the room. His eyes rested on the table. Perhaps he should make her a meal? How much time did he have? Why did he not think of this sooner?

Erik scrambled out of his seat and rushed over to the food. All that was there was some oddly named boxes that Abigail called cereal, apples, a few bananas, a gallon of water, some peanut butter, and half a loaf of bread.

What did you make out of that?

Erik was no chef. Hell, he hardly ate. He didn't need to, he was never particularly hungry for some reason.

Some shuffling came from the bathroom.

Erik panicked. He grabbed a slice of bread and slapped some peanut butter on it. After pouring some water in a cup (half of it spilt on the table), he grabbed a banana (squishing it in his grip) and slammed it next to the pitiful bread just as Abigail came out of the shower. He whirled around, thinking he was caught, before he remembered she couldn't see him.

Abigail marched through the door; she had not forgotten what had happened in the slightest. Erik winced as she stormed over to the table. He backed away as she sat down, scooted the seat closer to the food, and put an elbow in the peanut butter.

"What the?" Abigail cried, grabbed her shoulder. She grabbed at the odd substance, sniffed it and groaned, "Erik? Why is there peanut butter on the table?"

"I… Made you something to eat." He replied, not positive that it was the best of ideas anymore.

Abigail sighed, wiped the peanut butter off of her elbow, and stared at the table. None of them moved for a moment.

"I—"

"You—"

They both stopped talking as the other spoke. Erik watched as Abigail's face burned red. It almost made him laugh; but then he remembered why they were in the situation. He coughed.

"Abigail. We must talk."

"I don't want to talk."

"Then what do you plan on doing?" he replied, agitated.

"Nothing."

"That is exactly what will lead you to madness."

"Yes," she replied, rolling her eyes, "because you are the master of sanity."

Erik growled, "I know what it is like to be on the brink of it. I also know what it is like to come back from it."

"I don't care."

"I need you to understand me." Erik pleaded, walking closer to her, "I beg of you, Abigail. Just listen. You don't need to believe me or care. Just… comprehend."

Abigail's face turned towards him. Somehow, her dead eyes stared straight into him. She nodded. Erik shivered, but took a seat next to her.

He thought for a moment. Erik didn't know where to begin…

"I supposed I should start with the truth. What you have heard of me, in plays and movies and books, is true… To an extent. Of course I did most of those things… I killed, threatened, and stole. This Opera House was my home; is my home. I did in fact become… infatuated… with the girl Christine." Erik paused for a moment as her name escaped his lips. He had not uttered the word or thought of Christine for what seemed like a hundred years. Erik had not let himself think of her; it brought only pain and anger. Abigail coughed as he forgot to continue with the tale, "Yes… Yes. Christine. I did most of what was described. I did not, however, create such a terrible mess the last night that I saw her and her fiancée. That was mostly the escaping crowd knocking things over and being the brutes that they were."

"They were running for their lives, they-"

"Were in no danger of me. I had no need to harm them."

"You cut down the chandelier and let it fall onto the crowd."

"It was a distraction!" Erik yelled, throwing his hands in the air. Embarrassed, he quickly regained his composure with a few deep breaths, "As I was saying… The night that Christine abandoned me. I let them go… But nobody came after me. Why do you think I am still here to this day? Nobody knew where to go other than that rat faced, ugly little… Ahem… Her fiancée, Christine, and Madame Giry; she would never have dared to let out my secret to anyone else, however. Her life depended on it's secrecy."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Abigail asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Erik bowed his head, clutching his hair; it took all of his strength to spit out, "Because I believe I need to destroy my image to you before I can hope rebuild the only positive relationship I have had since Christine. And even that was self destructive."

Abigail was silent, so he continued.

"After they left, I was in shambles. Everything was ugly compared to her. I destroyed everything; mirrors, the bed, all of my work… Gone. I did not care any long, nothing mattered after I lost Christine. I went possibly even more insane than I already was. For days I did nothing, I would simply destroy. Once everything in my home was gone, I went up to the Opera House and continued my horror upstairs. I went on for days. Finally, bruised, bloody and defeated, I returned to my lair down here. I was weak with fatigue and hunger, but did not care. After taking a look around at what I had done, I took off my mask and simply stared at it. Then, seemingly without my control, I began to smash my face into it. The mask shattered. I went around the island, hitting my face against anything I could find, trying to destroy the last piece of ugliness that I could find; myself. After that, everything was black."

"You passed out?"

"No. I don't think so. I believe that I died."

"How can you be alive now then?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Erik replied honestly, "I remember… I remember…"

Erik opened his eyes to a field of fire.

He stood up. He was in a large, open land; almost every inch of it was burning. Erik heard screams of pain all around him, but saw nobody. He frowned. What was this place?

A yell came from behind him. He swung around only to find nobody there. A small twinge of fear shot through his head. What was he to do? Erik began to walk forward. When he checked to see if anyone was following him, Erik noticed that flames erupted in his wake. Every step he took, flames shot out of the ground. Confusion consumed him.

Erik moved on.

He eventually found a small dirt path. After following it for a bit, Erik saw a small house up ahead. He quickened his step. Upon reaching the house, he knocked on the door. Erik heard shuffling inside, and then a small peep hole appeared.

"Who are you?" came a cautious voice.

Suddenly, Erik realized he had no idea who he was. Who was he? How did he get here?

"I… I am not so sure." Erik responded, rubbing his head.

"Get out of here, you rat bastard! I'm not the welcoming committee! Fucking retarded." And the peep hole slammed shut.

Anger erupted inside of Erik. Who was this person to speak to him in such a way? Erik slammed his fist against the door before hissing a response.

"If you do not explain to me right now what is going on, I believe we will have a very big problem."

"Oh, shove off, you lunatic, before I call the Guardian!"

"Where am I? Who is the Guardian?"

"I warned you!"

Suddenly, a horn blew from within the house. Erik froze. He didn't like the sound of it. Erik decided that he should probably leave before this Guardian thing showed up.

With a swish of his cape (he wasn't so sure why he swished it so naturally) he stormed off, leaving a path of fire.

The sky went red. Clouds disappeared. A large fiery figure began to form directly in front of his. It grew larger and larger until Erik had to strain his neck to look up at it. Horns developed, wings sprouted, and before he realized it, a devilish red creature stood almost nine feet tall in front of his.

Erik couldn't move.

As the last bit of tail formed, the creature opened its eyes. Fire came out of his eye sockets and mouth. The thing stared at Erik, and with a booming laugh, it said,

"Ahahaha! A newcomer! Welcome, welcome to my little realm!" it said, it's voice a thousand woman's screams.

Erik simply stared at it.

"So shy are we? Ah, but you were not shy in life now were you, Mr. Phantom? But you remember none of this of course. Those who destroy themselves never do."

"What are you talking about?" Erik replied, suddenly confident.

"He speaks! Amazing. Your name is Erik, is it not?"

Erik nodded.

"Welcome, Erik, to hell."

Erik looked around. It defiantly was not what he pictured hell to be like. Why was he here? What had he done?

"You are wondering what you have done to deserve all of this? Well, I can guarantee it was something terrible! You walk with fire. Only the top dogs have fire coming out of them, I assure you!"

Erik looked down at the creature's own feet. Much larger flames came from him, but he still walked in fire as well.

"What did I do?"

"You killed many innocent people."

"Why?"

"At first, because you hated life. And then, over a woman." The creature chuckled, "Quite the romance!"

Anger grew within Erik. Who was this creature to mock him so?

The thing stopped laughing, "Yes… yes. You are quite special, Erik. I have foreseen your arrival for a thousand years now, and let me tell you, nothing but stress with come with it for me. Only recently have I finally come up with a solution. You will not stay here. Oh, no, you shall not remain in my kingdom and cause havoc! You will return to the world of the living, but you shall not be truly alive, my friend. It is a fine punishment for what you have done, I believe."

"I do not even know what I have done!"

"No need. It would take far too long. All you must know is you shall live in anguish and pain for what you have done. Enjoy your life, Erik, as best you can… Ahaha!"

And all went black.

Erik slowly opened his eyes.

He was in his lair, on his back, surrounded by glass. He slowly got up, looking around at the destruction.

Erik thought over what had just happened. He picked up a large chunk of mirror, looking at himself.

He was exactly the same. It was almost as if he had never gone on his rampage. A sense of defeat consumed him. Gritting his teeth, he slashed the shard across his wrist. Blood gushed out. He felt no pain.

The wound closed before his eyes.

"Did you really think you could get out of it that quickly?" came the same screaming voice, "There is only one way to end your everlasting life. I'll let you figure it out on your own."

Erik watched Abigail as he finished the tale. She simply stared at the ground, arms still folded around herself.

"So you're dead." She stated bluntly, not moving.

"No." he said quickly, "I am alive… I just can't die. I do not age or feel hunger or the need to sleep."

"But you died?"

"I believe so."

"Why did the devil let you live?"

"I don't know if it was the devil. I don't even know if it wasn't just some weird hallucination."

"But you're still alive, so it obviously wasn't."

"I don't know, Abigail!" Erik yelled, "I'm just trying to make you understand what I've gone through! I have been down here in this dump for hundreds of years! I hardly went outside!"

"Why didn't you?"

"The world is a cruel, evil place."

"You don't know that. The world has changed since you were a part of it, Erik."

"I don't need to know anything more than what I have seen, and how I have been treated."

Abigail's blind eyes looked up at him. She shook her head sadly, "I can't believe you. You just don't understand anything, and you don't even care."

"I care about many things. The world is not one of them."

"What do you care about, Erik?" Abigail huffed.

"You."

Abigail threw her hands into the air, "Why? Why do you care about me?"

"Because you are the one thing that has brought me out of my insanity; you and your music tore me from anger and hate, and showed me what it was like to have a friend again, to enjoy someone else again, to love someone again."

Abigail shook her head, "But you hated me at first."

Erik stood up from his chair and knelt next to her. He did not dare touch her as he spoke, "I did. I didn't understand why you intrigued me, why I desperately wanted you here. I hated how much you controlled me when I didn't even know it. You were so perfect to me; I hated you for making me want to reach out to you. I did not want to be hurt again, so much so that I wanted to hurt you. And now that I have, I am so regretful that I cannot bear myself." Tears began to form in his eyes, "Abigail, I am just so sorry for what I have put you through. I never wanted any of this to happen. There was a time where I wished that I had just killed you to avoid having to deal with you. Now, I wish that I had never taken you when I first heard you play so that you could have avoided all of this."

Abigail was still. She drew her legs up to her, curled in a ball on the seat. She did not speak. Sadness was pouring out of Erik. He had not been so emotional since Christine had left him, and it was nothing like this.

"Abigail…" he whispered, touching her leg gently, "You have changed me in so many ways. I feel you within me, your kindness and your bright personality. Your attitude has rubbed off on me and transformed me. I was a beast before I met you, and now, I like to think that I am something more. I was missing something, but now I know I was missing someone. I was missing you, Abigail."

Abigail looked up at him, tears flowing down her own face.

"But… Now I see much more clearly." Erik choked, staring into her dead eyes, "That I do not deserve you. You have gone through pain in these past few weeks, and it was because of me. You cannot see the atrocity that I am, the horror that people see when they look upon me…" he cried, gently brushing away her tears, "You are just… So…"

Erik burst out in tears. His sobs echoed off of the walls of the underground lair for the first time since Christine had destroyed him. Erik drew back from Abigail, ashamed and embarrassed. He turned from her, walking towards his organ in defeat. She would never stay with him.

Abigail sat frozen in her seat as Erik walk away. She listened as his sobs grew; pain shot through her as each one drifted towards her.

Abigail contemplated what had just happened. Erik was immortal? He had died, and the evil had sent him away out of fear of him rampaging through hell. For some reason this made sense to her; Abigail could picture The Phantom of the Opera taking over hell in a fortnight, forcing everyone to perform his operas. The thought made her want to laugh, but she couldn't summon any happiness from within her.

Erik had just opened himself to her. He had laid everything on the table in order to win her forgiveness.

Abigail then realized she had already forgiven Erik a long time ago. He had done it to protect her from an evil he had created in his mind. Abigail knew he could have easily killed Aimee and Doug, but didn't purely because they were her friends. This, Abigail could not thank Erik enough for.

Even though everything was his fault.

However, Abigail did not like the Phantom as much as he did to her. Sure, she had considered him her friend since they had first met (or he had first captured her), but the thought of something more had never really crossed her mind. It was amazing she thought of him something besides a snatcher or lunatic, Abigail realized. But was she really staying here now because the Phantom refused to let her go? He did after all say that he did not deserve her… What did that mean?

Now that Abigail thought about it, she realized how subtlety Erik had been falling for her, all of it leading up to their dance not even a day ago. They had been so close; she felt at peace there. Did she want to like him more?

No. Not after what he had done.

At least not for now.

Abigail rubbed her eyes. She had gone through hell and back, and then back again all in less than a month. Why was her life so bipolar? A few sobs broke through her thoughts. She perked up, listening more intently.

Erik was crying. It made her uncomfortable and afraid. The fact that Erik was broken enough to let tears escape him audibly was enough to tell her that he was severely wounded. Perhaps she should do something. But what? Abigail wanted to reach out to him as he had done to her. She wanted him to trust her too as he wanted her to trust him.

Maybe they could trust each other.

But why would she want to trust the man who had put her through hell?

Because he had gone through hell too; literally. Erik did not deserve the life that he had been given, Abigail realized. He was doing the best that he could. Maybe she could help him.

Abigail nervously rose from the chair.

They both were hurt right now. Perhaps helping each other was the only cure. Two wounded animals, coming together to form peace.

She walked towards the sobs.

Abigail felt compassion and pity for Erik. She felt as if he had formed his opinions based on what he saw. Maybe she could help him see something beyond an evil world; maybe she could help him see the light.

She sensed his presence. Abigail placed a hand on his back. She felt Erik jump, but stayed where he was. He was warm; a hiccup forced him to jump slightly every so often. Abigail frowned at the sight, or what she imagined it to be.

"Erik."

No response.

"I want to share something with you too." Abigail said. Erik's sobs died. He turned around, and she let her hand drop to her side.

"…What?" Erik questioned.

"You shared something with me, and I trust you, Erik. I believe you. I want you to trust me too."

"Of course." Erik responded. She heard him sit down on the organ's seat.

Abigail sat next to him. She folded her hands across her knees, and let out a sigh.

"I never told anyone this besides Aimee and Doug." She said quickly, "I just thought, well, you should know since you're sort of like, you know… Oh, I don't know. I just want you to know."

"What are you telling me?" Erik asked sincerely.

"Just listen."

"Of course."

Abigail took a deep breath, "Well, I guess you can say I never really had the best of lives. My parents had me by accident; they never wanted kids. In fact, the idea of children horrified them beyond belief. They didn't know they were having me until it was too late; they tried to raise me, but I guess they just hated it so much, they gave up. When I was around two, I think, they stopped watching me as much. They would leave me home by myself a lot. I had to raise myself."

"After awhile, they forgot to feed me on some days. I remember thinking to myself that I should figure out how to cook for myself when I was about three. So one day, when they were gone, and I was practically starving, I found some chicken nuggets in the freezer. I remember thinking to myself that I should turn on a flame and cook them. So I grabbed a chair, flipped on the gas stove, and threw some chicken nuggets into the flames. I remember staring at the fire… It's one of the last things I remember seeing."

"What happened?" Erik asked, confused.

"Well, it was an open flame. The chicken caught on fire, and I didn't know what to do, so I just watched. All I remember is fire from there; large flames, consuming and devouring everything. I remember burning, and then opening my eyes and I saw a giant white light. When I closed them again… All I saw was darkness. I never saw anything every again. The doctors said that my eyes burned to the point of no repair. I think I was lucky that they healed to this point." She said, pointing to her dead eyes, "I mean, Aimee has told me they just look… Misty."

She felt Erik take her chin, turning her chin to face him.

Abigail sniffed, "After that, my parents hated me. Apparently the fire tore down half of the house. We had to move. They did nothing to help me with my disability after that. They refused to tell me where things were; that's how I learned to map things out for myself. It was hard at first. I was so used to relying on my sight to guide me, now I had to use all of my senses. After awhile I could tell my hearing had improved. It was almost as if my body was helping me adapt to my new lifestyle."

"When I was six, I accidently tripped over a chair. I grabbed at something, which just happened to be the table cloth. All of the china on the table was destroyed. The next day, I ran into my mother when she was carrying her coffee. It burned her entire front side. The day after that, I stepped on the puppy they had gotten a few months before hand. I crushed his spine. It died. That day, they sent me to live with my Aunt. That was the last time I heard of my parents."

"When I graduated high school, my Aunt sent me to live here. Well, not here, outside of the Opera House in a small apartment. She paid for it and has been for the past few years. I made a small amount of money played for different clubs on the piano but never really had a chance to go professionally."

"When did you meet your friends?" Erik asked.

"I met Doug when I was about ten years old, I think. He found me when I was playing the piano. We became really close; both of us didn't have real parents, and we had been through a lot. He helped me through a lot of hard times, and I helped him through a lot too. I met Aimee when I graduated and moved to the apartment. We were both shopping at a grocery store that I went to a lot. I was wandering aimlessly when she found me, introduced me to the manager, and we kept in contact."

"I see." Erik said slowly, "And Aimee acts?..."

"Yes, she's an actress, singer, whatever you want to call it." Abigail replied, "She was trying out for a new role before you took me. The play was going to be The Phantom of the Opera, believe it or not."

"Really? I do believe that the play will be done here."

"What?"

"The play you speak of. I overheard renovators saying that the first performance that will be done on the Opera House's opening day would be The Phantom of the Opera."

Abigail's eyes widened. She didn't know if Aimee had even gotten the part. If she did… Would she try to see her again? Maybe Erik would let her listen to the play if anything.

Abigail felt Erik take her hand, "Abigail… I am happy you shared your story with me."

She nodded stiffly, "I wanted to."

After a moment, Erik released her hand. Abigail pulled it back from him.

"Well… I'm a bit, um, tired." Abigail said awkwardly, even though she had just woken up from sleeping. All she wanted to do now was to get away from Erik.

"Very well." Came his ominous voice.

And with that, Abigail made her way to the swan bed, collapsed into it's comforting silk, and groaned.

Oh, life.

MY RIDE IS HERE SO ILL QUICKLY SAY THAT I HAVE STARTED PUTTING MY EXPECTED UPDATES ON MY PROFILEAT THE VERY END SO I HOPE YOU LIKED THE CHAPTER SO BYE LOVE YOU ALL!

Edit: Sorry guys, for some reason I was looking back on this chapter and I noticed that words were italicized for some reason before they were supposed to! I don't know if this will send an alert out or whatever but sorry, no new chapter just yet... I am working on it though! Expected update times will be on my profile!